


let's stop (running from us, my baby)

by MiraclesInApril



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Dirty Talk, M/M, Mentioned Slut Shaming, Profanity, alternate universe - fuck buddies, light d/s theme, like holy shit wash out your brain chanyeol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-14
Updated: 2019-04-14
Packaged: 2020-01-12 23:34:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18456908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiraclesInApril/pseuds/MiraclesInApril
Summary: Sure they just fool around together and it's all good but it was never part of the deal for Chanyeol's throat to constrict when Jongin talks about seeing other people.





	let's stop (running from us, my baby)

**Author's Note:**

> hello my good lovelies. this is inspired by [this prompt](https://twitter.com/chankaiprompts/status/686919236942299137). title from my son troye's song 'my my my!'  
> and lee soohyuk sweetie, i am SO sorry, none of it is personal. if you don't know him please google him and i hope you understand LOL.  
> thank you so much to the dearest ladies clare and dany for beta'ing this and reassuring me that i didn't completely miss the mark with their characterizations, much love to you both ♡♡  
> enjoy!~

Chanyeol’s boners are pretty hard to kill. Twenty two years into his life and he’s got a firm grasp on this certainty. While he wouldn’t exactly diagnose himself with a mortal case of satyriasis, he would admit to some undoubtably what the _fuuuuck_ moments. Like that time he was on the bus, daydreaming about his new co-lead on a project that was thirty percent of his grade (bad idea) and a man who’d seen better days, and definitely better scents to his person, sat down next to him and started yelling at a someone named ‘Bob’ in front of them—a questionable task seeming as the seat before them was empty and the ones in front of it was occupied by two ladies.

It got all the other passengers looking their way, some furtive sidelong glances and others flat out staring while Chanyeol’s mind stayed on Mark’s pretty lips (though he can affirm, nothing comparable to Jongin’s plump, cocksucker ones. He was horny, not-end-of-the-spectrum _lunatic.)._

There was also that time too, when he was around fifteen and his mother had barged in without knocking to collect the laundry basket and his knees shot up so fast he almost knocked them into his chin and inadvertently collapsed his own trachea. Should’ve killed his boner in two seconds flat but there he was, cringing but praying hard she left quick so he could get back to his stubborn prick. In his defense, a new Vance Dietrich scene was out, where he was rawing some twink who’d wandered into his repair shop over the bonnet of an 80’s Chevrolet. He would like any self respecting, warm blooded person to dispute the sheer headiness of it…

Impossible.

Baseline, Chanyeol’s a libidinous guy and once that libido’s up, it’s a...hard thing to undo. A fact Jongin is aware of but somehow doesn’t notice that Friday night when he casually announces—as Chanyeol’s lapping enthusiastically between his thighs, _for fuck’s sake_ —that he is thinking of going out with someone.

“I mean, he’s really, _oh fuck,_ really hot. Soohyuk Lee? You know him? I bet you do, he’s in acti—oh, why’d you stop?”   

Chanyeol’s boner dies, so does his pulse, for one split second.

“What?” he blinks, like he woke out of a disorienting dream. More like nightmare.

Jongin, his oblivious winsome soul be damned, sits up, all naked and flushed from Chanyeol’s thorough ministrations. He inches closer and wraps a wrist around Chanyeol’s cock like he thinks it’s only gone down due to him not having given it attention in awhile and continues speaking, “Yeah, he’s apparently made friends with one of the lads in our troupe, comes down to our studio a lot lately—” he shifts even closer, legs closing around Chanyeol’s waist and back, a sigh leaving his rosy lips and his eyes going hazy for a moment as their groins sync up. He leans up and presses a brief kiss to Chanyeol’s jaw before pulling back and looking at him soberly,  “and I dunno, I was just thinking, he’s hot and Sehun says he’s decent and I watched one of his plays last week? He’s _so talented_ and I was thinking, maybe—”  

“You’re thinking too damn much, doll.” Chanyeol growls and tackles Jongin onto his back, mouth descending on his fast and whatever _fucking_ praise for Chanyeol’s nemesis gets buried against Chanyeol’s skin. Within Jongin’s next ten breaths, he is mewling, Chanyeol’s tongue breaching his entrance, fingers working his shiny, swollen cock. Jongin’s fingers tangle in his hair while he spews Chanyeol’s name like it’s the only word his brain was coded to pronounce and Chanyeol has to hold him down by the hips when he comes so he doesn’t writhe his way off the bed.

Jongin leaves thoroughly fucked, with weak legs and a scrambled mind that can hardly recall his own name. And a victory as paramount as Jongin’s wrecked state; there’s not another mention of Soohyuk fuckin’ Lee that evening.

 

Chanyeol isn’t under any illusion that he and Jongin are anything but regular fuck buddies. Or friends, ‘friend’ used in the most tentative of senses in that they have a drink at the occasional bar meetup or dorm party with mutual friends or when they end up somewhere on campus together with said friends. Jongin tends to be more taciturn with bigger groups and Chanyeol never really gives a fuck about the amount of people around him, somehow finding himself at the centre of most discussions. With the buffer of so many others present, they scarcely interact directly when they end up in the same vicinity. The only exceptions are the time or two they accidentally ended up in the johns at the same time.

Yup, pure stroke of luck.

There was a visceral compulsion that did not allow Chanyeol to just tip his head at Jongin and walk away. Evidently Jongin requited so it always resulted in some muffled gasps and hands-down-each-other’s-pants action in a stall or Chanyeol whispering rapid filth into Jongin’s ear in a quickie pressed to the door. It’s followed by a stiff walk on the return to their table with Chanyeol jumping back into the conversation like nothing happened, smug as a contented feline and smirking discreetly at Jongin remaining visibly dazed, zoning out on his friends and avoiding Chanyeol’s eyes like he would convulse to death if he looked.

While he’s not very bothered about Jongin keeping their setup a secret from his friends, Jongin’s public squirming gives him an inexplicable thrill. One drunken conversation that had led to talk of preferences gave Chanyeol all the insight he needed on Kim Jongin’s relationship inclinations. How unshocking to find it’s quite the opposite of Chanyeol’s detached, explorative and fleeting hookups.

“I don’t have a type.” Jongin had shaken his head.

“My name is not Sehun.” his friend, Sehun, snorted.

“Let me— let me tell you,” Evan, having had the most to drink, slurred, “aaaall about his type!”

“No, I don’t have one and we’re taking you home.” Jongin clamped a hand over his mouth, the other drunken boy falling easily into his lap. There was a faint glow to him, a luminance in his eyes that came from having enough to drink but not really alter much of his functions. He was avoiding looking at Chanyeol like his life depended on it and Chanyeol was equal parts amused and tempted slink to his side and watch his floundering get worse.

“You do have a type. You like them saintly and goody-goody like you.” Sehun said flippantly and Evan gave a garbled assent from Jongin’s thighs.

Chanyeol had never had to practise restraint like he did in that moment. Withstand the urge to snort, to guffaw, to ask if they were talking about the same Jongin. He was aware their hookups weren’t an attestment to Jongin’s romantic preferences, lord knew it wasn’t true for him. But he’d learnt a thing or two about his fuck buddy by then and ‘saintly and goody-goody’… neither were close to being descriptors of what Jongin was like with Chanyeol, for Chanyeol (unless goody-goody extended to the bedroom because boy could Jongin make a saintly job of sucking cock.).That, too, gave him an inexplicable thrill, a rush of inebriating satisfaction that he was granted a facet of Jongin no one else in the room was privy to.

“Good luck with that.” Baekhyun piped in, his elbow digging into Chanyeol’s flank. “What about you, Chanyeol? Care to share what you’re into?”

Chanyeol’s friend was a little shit. He was perfectly aware of his no strings policy. Nonetheless, Chanyeol played the card to his tune.

“I like my boys pretty and sensual. Loud as a horn in bed, because let’s face it. I _am_ that good,” he grinned at the round of skeptical snickers and pushed on because he already had what he needed. Jongin’s undivided attention on him. “I like them so perfect you could hardly believe they’re real.” _whiny thing that hate begging but do because they need it bad from him. Receptive to an exhalation on their skin and scratchy when the desire overtakes. A velvet dessert wrapped up neat and innocent, but actually Hell-made on the inside and pouring sultry when you open them up,_ he didn’t add but hoped Jongin could pick up on the unspoken words anyway. It wasn’t about anyone else and it wasn’t anything he hadn’t murmured in praise to the boy sitting across from him.

“Like, my personal doll.” he looked Jongin square in the eye then, enjoying the fluttering of his lashes like he was torn between looking away and simply being unable to. Through the muted din he managed to catch the hitch of Jongin’s breath and mouth going slightly ajar. Chanyeol’s grin increased in size. No wonder no one was doing it for him after Jongin. He turned Chanyeol on in ways he’d never even been aware he was aroused by. Enjoying fucks when he graduated would prove challenging, just as everyone after their first hookup became lacklustre.  

“Sex is all you’re after? Gasp, never heard that before.” Baekhyun rolled his eyes, thumped him on the back.

“Nothing against feelings, that shit’s just not for me.” Chanyeol shrugged and took a swig from his bottle. It was his truth. There was no point in trying when he could never bring himself to care even a fraction for the people he met or slept with.

Jongin and his friends left soon after and Chanyeol assumed the downcast state of him as he went was brought on by weariness or alcohol.

That’s the extent of their public interactions or acknowledgements.

Chanyeol loves sex. Jongin loves sex. Chanyeol has particularly come to love sex with Jongin as his body made clear to him, and every Friday evening when they’ve got no other commitments, they tackle that energy the way they ought to and go their separate ways. Sometimes when the mood hits and Chanyeol _needs,_ Jongin makes time outside of their Friday appointment for a blowjob or handjob, knowing they can’t go all the way for preservation of Jongin’s mobility in his dance classes. Chanyeol makes sure to reward him as best as he can on Friday. It has worked peachy for a year and he’s got no desire to alter their handy little routine. Jongin is free to see other people, likewise for Chanyeol. His quarrel isn’t with that concept. He could always find someone new to fuck on the regular if Jongin got tied down and didn’t want to go on with their Fridays anymore.

No problemo, nada, zilch, fucking A.

But why in the ever loving fuck did it have to be _that_ moron? Since his time of admission to the academy, Soohyuk has been strutting like a motherfucking peacock, strolling up to Chanyeol with the eeriest grin seen between the ground and the thermosphere, “Hey man! Nice to finally meet you! People keep telling me I look like you!”

It was right then that Chanyeol decided he couldn’t stand the guy’s guts.

He was quick to shoot him down in a blank stare and a barely perceptible nod before he went back to his script. Dismissed.

“He’s right you know.” Kieran had said, pausing to look up from his own script. Chanyeol fixed him with the same blankness. “This morning I was walking to the cafeteria, saw him outside and thought Christ was on his way down from Heaven. You. Dressed like a Person. Before noon. Really, that was on me. Shoulda known better.” he shook his head and went back to his script, leaving Chanyeol imitating a floundering fish.

In his second year the mule of an imitation grew more despicable. He’d been at the academy for a year and in retrospect, performing in front of influential industry guests could either scare a freshman into dropping out or get their head bloated to the size of a hot air balloon’s envelope. Soohyuk had been in the latter dichotomy. But that was the art of retrospection and truthfully, Chanyeol doesn’t care to understand Soohyuk as much as he didn’t care to cut him any slack in his first year either. Chanyeol’s projects have been lauded since he was a freshman and he’s worked time and bone to get where he is and none of it has been for a vainglorious asswipe to ride on his coattails because he might have ears shaped like his. No way, no sir, no ma’am.

Jongin is _his._ His booty call. He has no intentions of sharing him with someone whom he despises to the last cell.

 

ミ☆☆彡

 

Unfortunately for him, Jongin is hyper the following Friday, bursting into Chanyeol’s apartment practically skipping and only missing flowers in his hair and long locks fanning behind him to complete his happy-go-lucky princess-in-a-field vibe.

“He asked me out! This is a Very Good day, Chanyeol. Let’s celebrate!” he is straddling Chanyeol’s lap and loosening his tie by the time Chanyeol gets his bearings.

“Who asked you out?”

“Soohyuk, dummy! Remember I told I was interested? Well, turns out he was feeling the same because this morning—oof!”

Chanyeol is suddenly seized by an anaphylaxis whose only antidote is having Jongin pumped and dripping with his come.

“Open up doll,” he grits and Jongin, though stunned, complies without question. He wastes no time in taking his tie that Jongin conveniently loosened and wraps it around Jongin’s mouth in a gag.

“Here’s the deal,” he says, all the buttons on Jongin’s shirt popping and clattering on the floor as he forces it apart. _He’s gonna have to borrow something when he leaves_ the thought enters his mind and he feels no remorse for the instant satisfaction it courses through him. He even has a good mind to make sure it’s his club hoodie which is unique to them alone and get a buzz going on who Joie de Vivre’s best dancer is screwing. “I’ve got a new game for us called No Talk Friday where the only thing you’re allowed to do is scream. So be a good boy for me and be quiet if you’re not screaming, yeah?”    

Jongin’s eyes go wide and dark as blackberries and Chanyeol knows he has successfully expunged his mind from every other thought that doesn’t pertain to Chanyeol and Chanyeol fucking him hamstrung.

Jongin reaches around Chanyeol’s ass, pushing him closer, palms finding their way to bare skin and nails digging in as Chanyeol grinds their cocks together. That’s fine by him. Jongin can mark him up all he wants. God knows Chanyeol’s about to turn every inch of the skin beneath his jaw into his own personal canvas. Chanyeol’s no artists but Jongin’s skin? That’s his sketchbook, his domain, his purview, jurisdiction. He’s had a year to master the art of imprinting on Jongin’s skin in designs of his fancy and any fucker who tries to touch him now will have a good idea of that immediately.

Whoa whoa… Not just any fucker. He doesn’t care about anyone else touching Jongin, besides Soohyuk. He is the only one that gives Chanyeol a severe bout of hives. That’s all.

Jongin, predictably, is hard in his jeans, persistent whiny sounds that stir Chanyeol in his throat. Chanyeol continues chafing their bodies together and does nothing more. Jongin can reach completion from this alone. Chanyeol knows because he’s made it happen more times than he can count with both hands and toes.

It’s one of Jongin’s caveats, one of what pushed Chanyeol into this Jongin-jones trench; his sensitivity.

Chanyeol fucks, he fucks _good,_ and then he’s gone. He’s not an asshole. There is no ambiguity about his intentions right from the bat and if people go along with it willingly, what’s his job worrying about how they feel about it later? Not his problem. A night and a good time is all he promises and a hundred percent of his one-timers know this.

Wasn’t it the most irksome thing when it was _Chanyeol’s_ fucking dick who wouldn’t get the memo with Jongin? When the night after their first hookup saw Chanyeol in bed with Jongin on his damn mind, broken moans and raw eyes on the forefront of his imagination, reminiscing a sharply tapered waist that had woken up to the morning with the damson line art of Chanyeol’s fingers blossoming on them.

Chanyeol had been with plenty vocal people, plenty moaners, even screamers. But no one sounded like Jongin; like luxury and ecstasy fused together and all from Chanyeol just petting them over their clothes. No one looked this vulnerable and putty in his hold, like they’d will their body into whatever he wanted it to be so long as the reward was his cock. No one managed to look so fiendish before him, yet retain some of that guilelessness they wore outside the bedroom as they asked to suck his dick. Quite frankly, that was some addictive shit, one hit opiate that had him replaying their night for cheap highs because nothing could fucking compare to the real thing.

 _“Chanyeol.”_ he hears the muffled plea under the gag but Chanyeol has many plans for this evening and all of them are a variation of making Jongin lose his mind. He ignores it, hands braced on the couch above Jongin’s shoulders, hips dragging over Jongin’s and ignoring as well the deft dancer waist desperately trying to meet his.

And if Jongin misses the breakfast date he has the next morning because Chanyeol’s pinning him down and making him sing good morning in the seventh octave? That’s really only their business.

 

ミ☆☆彡

 

Chanyeol doesn’t know what happens with Jongin and that varmint, except that Jongin is a lot more subdued two weeks later as Chanyeol is treating his soft abdomen to wet kisses. It annoys the hell out of him because he’s concerned and that is nothing he signed up for. He thinks of telling Jongin to leave if he’s not interested this week but one look up into his large soul-stripped eyes and Chanyeol has a feeling he’d commit crimes if it would please their owner and holy fuck, that makes him pause because what a wholly unwarranted and terrifying thought.

“Jongin?” he asks, relegating the frightening notion he just had to the back of his mind where it will hopefully never emerge from again.

“Yeah? Sorry, m’sorry, I just…” he scrambles up into a sitting position, Chanyeol’s annoyance increasing because now he’s out of range and Chanyeol has been thinking all week about all the ways he can touch Jongin, debauch him enough to keep him in bed until maybe Saturday noon this time.

“I’m not feelin’ it today, m’sorry.”

 _It’s alright. Go home and sleep. Or talk to a friend or de-stress however._ Is what Chanyeol should have said.

“Hey, what’s up?” he says instead, because lately all his brains have joined Soohyuk’s up there in space and moron is becoming His Brand.

Jongin stays silent, fidgeting with the covers and Chanyeol lets him figure out the obvious conflict taking place inside him.

“Do you think I’m a slut?”

_“What the fuck?”_

Jongin’s brows furrow, his lips pursued in a sad pout and under any circumstance Chanyeol might have called it cute if he wasn’t so aghast.“Is that a yes?”

 _“No._ Where’d you get that idea from?”

“Oh. Uhm. Okay. Never mind.” he shakes his head and slithers off the bed, reaching down for his discarded clothes. “I have to go.”

He’s tugged back on the mattress by a thoroughly confounded Chanyeol, burgeoning fury inside him at whatever caused Jongin to feel that way.

Jongin lands on his back with a surprised gasp, Chanyeol hovering over him in his naked glory but there are more pressing things than fucking right now—his traitorous heart has completely pirated his govern.

“What made you think that? Straight answer, Jongin.”

“I…” Jongin trails, gaze meeting and darting from Chanyeol, chest moving rapidly beneath him. It dawns on Chanyeol he might be crowding the poor boy into hyperventilation. He lifts himself up but doesn’t allow Jongin to go too far from him by gripping his thighs and pushing him up against Chanyeol’s torso.

“The truth.”

“I don’t want to talk about it right now.” Jongin says eventually, head down and hair brushing Chanyeol’s bare chest.

“... Okay,” Chanyeol nods, deciding to let it go, for now at least. There will be plenty rage time for when he finds out what happened and he _will_ find out. “Want to hang out?”

“Like continue… this?” Jongin looks up, perplexed and Chanyeol doesn’t blame him because ‘hanging out’ for them has only ever been code for sex.

“No knucklehead.” he ruffles Jongin’s hair play-harsh, “Hang out like watch a movie, have a bite, shoot the shit.”

 _“Oh,”_ Jongin says like it’s a revelation and Chanyeol almost laughs because he’s rather adorable. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

Chanyeol doesn’t know what he’s doing. This is unprecedented for them. Hanging out with a fuck buddy… _Having_ a fuck buddy is exception enough and now… well fuck. But. It’s just one night, one time. How much more could he compromise in less than twenty four hours?

It will be grand.

That’s how he finds himself on his couch with some shit called the Umbrella Academy playing on his screen, a half gallon of Breyers between him and Jongin and a large blanket over their nude bodies (clothes aren’t a necessity in his home, thank you). He can’t tell you what the show is about though, because Jongin is downcast still and all he can focus on is Jongin and that’s annoying as hell too. Chanyeol wants to punch whoever caused him to be like this to the next century, if only for robbing him of a good fuck he’s been looking forward to or, at least robbing him of an attentive and chirpy Jongin as he normally is.

Okay, he’s lying to himself and that’s even more irritating. He’s not the headless, denial type so why's he trying to play this game with himself? Jongin is sad and the only reason it’s annoying is because Chanyeol cares why the fuck he’s sad in the first place and also maybe wants to get him happy-go-lucky again or blissed out in pleasure—or maybe both.  

With a conscience still engaged in confliction he lifts the ice cream tub and the blanket and drags Jongin to him from the other end of the couch before he settles the blanket over them again, an astounded Jongin flush against his side.

“Aah.” he clears his throat at the laser pointed questioning look, “Hugs help. Cheer people up. I think. Scientific thing. Here, I can show...I’ll Google it.” he puts the tub on the coffee table and scans the surface for his phone but Jongin ushers him back against the couch with a smile that lightens Chanyeol’s heart.

“Don’t be a dork. But...it’s true. It helps.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Maybe I’m not a slut but… Definitely slut for cuddles.” he says sheepishly, hiding into Chanyeol’s side like that’s gonna veil him from sight. Chanyeol laughs despite himself, his chest filling with something he never wants to acknowledge.

“Is that right? Guess it could be worse.”

“Yeah,” he smiles, looking relieved. Then Chanyeol finds his expression mirroring Jongin’s as it falters. “I...well you know how I went on another date with Soohyuk last week?” Chanyeol didn’t but he says nothing, to Jongin and to the surge of annoyance at imagining him with that fuckface, “We ended up at his place and I thought… he was really nice and I liked the past two dates so… I slept with him…”

Chanyeol is the one who’s finding breathing laborious now and the bells in his head might be going off too loud and his fist curl in an urge to maim but he keeps all that under a tight nonchalant, if not slightly concerned, mylar wrap as he asks, “And he called you names for that?”

“No…”

“But, shit, this is going to sound so weird. Promise you won’t judge?” he asks with his brand of raw candour and if he asked for Chanyeol’s bank details or liver and both lungs on a silver platter, Chanyeol isn’t sure he could’ve denied. He nods and waits for Jongin to get the words out, thumb painting thoughtless pacifying patterns over the shoulder he’s got an arm around.

“I said your name instead of his when we were… I swear it was an accident!” Jongin exclaims at Chanyeol’s flabbergasted face, leaping out of his hold and scooting back to the other end of the couch like he expects Chanyeol to treat him as some contagion.

“What the fuck,” Chanyeol mutters softly under his breath as he tries to comprehend what Jongin just said.

“Chanyeol, I really didn’t mean it. I just… he kinda looks like you and I’m so used to you and it wasn’t because I was wishing he was you or anything really, ‘cos that would be dumb and I’m not dumb, I don’t think I am at least, but if you never want to… like not fuck anymore I understand and—”

“Jesus fuck, would you _breathe?”_ his brain had caught up and he was on the verge of bursting into laughter when Jongin just _had_ to go and say something about him resembling that pile of shit. He’s not amused, not anymore.

“He slut-shamed you for making a mistake?”

“He asked me why I said your name and I kinda told him we sleep together. He freaked and thought we were in a relationship and it’s not his fault, you know? Anyone would think the same.”

Chanyeol tries to not grit his teeth at Jongin’s defence of Soohyuk. He fails.

“I tried to explain to him that it’s no strings attached and we can stop anytime but then he said he can’t be with a slut and told me to… Anyway, I’m really sorry Chanyeol.”

“He told you to what?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“The hell did he tell you to do?” there’s something dark and atomic fermenting in Chanyeol’s gut, clawing its way up and out of him and Jongin cowers like he senses it.

“He told me to leave, told me he never wanted to see me again.” Jongin’s sunshine face is boarded up, his truthful eyes unreadable but his sotto voce and heavily bobbing throat give him away.

“Son of a fucking bitch.” Chanyeol snarls, all his thoughts run violent and uncouth. “C’mere.” he orders and Jongin deliberates but makes his way to Chanyeol’s side without having to be dragged there this time.

“No such thing as a slut, you got me?” he says intently, needing Jongin to understand he was not at fault, not for sleeping with Chanyeol at least, “People shame shit that’s outta their scope but that don’t mean you’re wrong, okay? Maybe you were wrong for callin’ my name when you were with someone else,” he says, sharp voice thawing and adds as smug afterthought, “but that’s no mistake in my book if it counts.” he smirks for a second, allowing himself the satisfaction of occupying Jongin’s thoughts when he was fucking someone else. Damn, if that didn’t set a man’s ego on steroids. He is rewarded with a tentative smile from Jongin, evident to him as to why Chanyeol would be made smug by his blunder.

“How about we watch this thing and forget about that fucker? And maybe later we can give you a reason to call my name.” he sneaks in as Jongin settles back into his side.

_He’s going to kill that roach when he sees him._

“Don’t be an ass.” Jongin groans.

Chanyeol decides to cut him some slack and keep his lips tight. But with his anger momentarily subdued, he can’t help but fixate on Jongin thinking about him when he wasn’t with him, thinking about him when someone else was supposed to be making him feel good. It almost makes him snort because one, Soohyuk is a failure at sex and two, he’s got Jongin hooked on him like the vice versa of it.

Later, meant later later, before they slept later, perhaps towards the end of the show later or maybe even half way through it later but as Chanyeol thinks of his Jongin laid out pretty and calling for him, the yearning to get him worked up and hear him say his name supplication-like kicks in. No matter how hard he tries, he can’t douse it out.

He brings his other hand to Jongin’s thigh and Jongin makes no reaction like he’s completely enthralled by the show and has zero awareness of Chanyeol. Chanyeol keeps his caresses steady and innocuous for awhile, soothing and unassuming. Jongin doesn’t react to Chanyeol studying his face either, the unveiled attention on him. He laughs at something a character says on the screen and Chanyeol takes it as a chance to inch between his thighs, palm splayed on the intimate inside of it. Jongin still makes no reaction and Chanyeol grins. His baby’s a fuckin twat when he wants.

Holy fuck.

Chanyeol dismisses the thought like moving on from it lightning fast will revoke its existence.

His nose finds Jongin’s shoulder, his neck, where he traces his tongue up and makes Jongin’s breath hitch.

“Doll,” he says because the nickname always changes Jongin’s pattern of breathing without a touch, “what’s your colour?”

Chanyeol doesn’t so much see Jongin still as he feels, the pause palpable. “Green.” Jongin breathes, minutely breathless.

“Wanna feel good? Want me to make you feel good?”

“Fuck,” Jongin says and the profanity is sweet, so sweet and dulcet on his lips, “you’re not allowed to do that Chanyeol.”

“Do what?” he pushes Jongin’s thighs apart beneath the blanket and grazes along the insides languorously, without any plans to move up, go where the interest is starting to show. He knows, oh he _knows_ what Jongin is partial to, what he’s averse to, what his weaknesses are. It’s glorious and one of his addictive caveats. And the thought of someone else learning about this and all of Jongin’s other soft spots and sexual quirks? Touching him and watching arousal eclipse his tender eyes, watching his chest move faster in a shortness of yearning breath? Chanyeol’s starting to think it’s only natural for him to feel a wee, _wee_ bit possessive after having a year of exclusivity with Jongin.

The exclusivity is not voluntary, mind you. It isn’t something Chanyeol ever saw himself committing to and he’s not exclusive right now either, per se. Jongin is the best he’s had so far and everyone he’s tried to fuck since shines in their insipidity in comparison.  

Chanyeol strives to be the best, to attain the best and he’ll be damned if Jongin doesn’t vault well over that fucking standard. To simply put it, Jongin’s unreal in everything to Chanyeol. The first time he saw him he’d asked him if he were a doll and _aren’t you a sweet looking thing?_ Jongin had got flustered, all ruffled and telling Chanyeol he wasn’t _but thanks for the compliment._ Chanyeol had the most unruly urge to see what else compliments did to him.

Jongin didn’t have qualms about Chanyeol asking him to a movie which was really only a prelude to Chanyeol getting his hands on him, starting from the bus journey—where Jongin initially halted Chanyeol’s advances out of shyness before making a resigned acquiescent noise to get Chanyeol’s attention again. Chanyeol could lend some understanding, that was quite the hard-on he’d helped work up. He happily (but discreetly, for Jongin’s sake) groped Jongin all the way home, to his apartment door where neither of them could get open and finally on his bed when they did eventually manage.

Jongin naked and vulnerable—but not shy anymore, all that had evaporated in the heady petting—and asking Chanyeol with his amorous eyes to do everything imaginable under the sun to him. Too real to be true, a fucking doll, Chanyeol’s personal toy and after that encounter, Chanyeol made sure he was aware.

That’s why the thought of someone shaming Jongin sets an inextinguishable blaze somewhere periphery inside him. Jongin is _his_ to shame, _his_ to leer at for being wanton and it’s never without Jongin’s desire for it. Sweet, proper Jongin, whose kink is pleasing and being used, Chanyeol indulges and does so with great pleasure. It gets them both off, _his_ nonpareil baby boy and it works just fine for them, _because it’s them._ And Chanyeol loves every minute of it and would never treat Jongin so ungraciously or be so disdainful with, regardless of his no emotions, no strings rule. It boils his blood to think anyone would make Jongin feel worthless for seeking to satisfy his harmless desires.

But Chanyeol can dwell on that later, right now he’ll give Jongin an actual reason for his mind to be consumed with him.

“Not fair to dirty talk me. You know I’ll…” Jongin loses the thought as Chanyeol finally touches his forming erection, cups his hardening balls and palms them devoutly.

“You’ll what? Come in thirty seconds? That’s fine doll, that’s _good._ I’ll give you round two and—” he pauses, voice husky and gut filling with velvet lust, licking up to the corner of Jongin’s mouth as he nuzzles there and continues, “and three and four, spent from just touching you like this and whispering in your ear all the things I’m gonna do to your sinful body.”

“Chanyeol, _Chanyeol,_ please, fucking stop, _please,”_

“Please or stop? Which is it doll?” Chanyeol removes his hand and sets it on Jongin’s thigh over the blanket, earning a despaired protest.

“Stop… _no_ please, no I—”

“See I’ve got a funny feeling you might want something but you’re not sayin’. Which is it lovedoll? Want me to make you come or want me to stop?”

 _“Chanyeol,”_ Jongin whines hapless and helpless, head pressed all the way to the top of the backrest, hips raised and seeking out more of Chanyeol’s ministrations which are on pause until Jongin can find his larynx and articulate his needs.

“Sweet pretty thing,” he coos, taking advantage of Jongin’s bared neck to deboss him with bites and suckles that aren’t too kind, “is that how you sounded? Pretty desperate. Desperate. Pretty. Sorry couldn’t help you baby,”

“I’m going to _kill_ you.” Jongin croaks, breathing through his nose, hips still squirming and trying to manipulate Chanyeol’s hand onto his cock.

“Why? What do you want? I’ll give you whatever you want. Just need to tell me, baby.”

“A kiss,” Jongin whispers, surprising Chanyeol.

“You want a kiss?”

“Yeah,”

“I’ll give you a kiss.” he turns Jongin’s face to him and gives him a deep, short kiss, “Like that?”

“Yeah,” Jongin nods, licks his lips, slightly unfocused. Chanyeol almost smiles at the ease with which he can unsettle Jongin and even more surprising tonight is that it’s laced with nothing but the urge to gather Jongin to his chest and kiss to the sound of all the blood rushing in his ears, to the sound of quiet, pleased moans.

“What else you want?”

“A kiss.” Jongin says again and Chanyeol repeats his earlier action, increasingly languid and indulgent.

“A longer kiss.” Jongin demands, squirming closer, blurry eyes now filled with frustration. Chanyeol chuckles and grasps Jongin’s face with both hands before pressing their lips together, tongue caressing the insides of Jongin’s mouth.

“Nuh uh. Didn’t say you could use your tongue baby doll.” Chanyeol chastises and Jongin whines in protest but when Chanyeol kisses him again his tongue stays lax and lets Chanyeol explore his mouth, low wanton hums in his chest.

 _“Chanyeol.”_ Jongin pleads when Chanyeol breaks away to breathe.

“Hm?”

“Please.

“My pretty dollface. What is you want, hm?” Chanyeol strokes his hair, brushes his lips to his shoulder, acts like he doesn’t notice the desperate cant of Jongin’s hips.

“Kiss me.” he says he again and Chanyeol is proud of him. He knows the longer he endures his need, the longer he _earns_ his orgasm, the more generous Chanyeol will be and Chanyeol is so turned on he could fuck Jongin into the weekend.

“Sure doll. You want me to kiss you all night? Yeah? Yeah?” he cups Jongin’s face again, stilling the frantic nods and leaning forward to kiss him again, deeper than the last time. He allows it when Jongin moves his tongue with his, striving for a taste, allows it when Jongin’s fingers come to his nape and press him closer.

“Want you to touch me.” Jongin says hoarsely the next time they break away and Chanyeol figures he’s earned that at least by now.

“Show me where.”

“Here.” he pushes back the blanket, exposing his cock that’s straining towards his stomach.

“So needy already.” Chanyeol muses, showing Jongin the sympathy in his eyes, “How’d you get like this?”

The sheer frustration on Jongin almost drives Chanyeol to relent, to immediately bow his head and suck him fast but he settles for a soft but controlled look and every intent to ensure Jongin goes weak with pleasure multiple times tonight.

“You.” he replies.

“Me? “

“Yeah.”

“What about me?”

Chanyeol’s own cock throbs, leaking and pulsing for attention.

“You made me hard.”

“And that’s all you were thinking? About me?” he leans closer to Jongin, arm stretching on the couch spine behind him, husky and dripping with lust.

“Yeah.” Jongin nods enthusiastically. Chanyeol curses him because this is what he can’t get over, hasn’t been able to get over.

“Say yes doll.”

“Yes, thinkin’ bout you only.”

“Good,” Chanyeol says, sounding as wrecked as Jongin only to a lesser degree, “good. I think you earned this.” he says and Jongin lets out an eager sound,“I think you deserve me touching you everywhere, all night. What do you say to that?”

“Yes please.”

“Such a good boy,” Chanyeol murmurs, takes Jongin’s hand and places it on his cock, “I’m so pleased. See?” he presses Jongin’s heel in. He and Jongin groan together. They’re too close to coming but he removes the hand before he can get carried away. “But we’re gonna help you first because you look like you need some care. You want help baby?” he trails his fingers faintly over Jongin’s wet cockhead, elicits a sharp hiss and a buck of his body.

“Yes, yes, _yes._ Please Chanyeol,”

Chanyeol almost coos, he is so proud of Jongin. He remembers the first time he told him to beg, baffled wide-eyed Jongin shaking his head until Chanyeol edged him to tears and pleas fell naturally and endlessly from his lips. Now he has no qualms about letting go and it fills Chanyeol up with more than pride.

Up to Jongin he hadn’t a specific way of enjoying and indulging in sex. The touch of another being, the rudimentary desire, the clear-cut end goal of a climax. That’s all it had been to him and it had been more than good enough. But then came Jongin, where everything he'd known about his amatory self felt like the prologue of an unwritten book and all the words came together on the pages in the ink of sensuality and gratification the more he explored with Jongin, the longer he spent in his presence. Jongin roused uncharted dormant sides of him, perhaps even invented them within him. Divergent foreign needs, the urge, the overwhelming, undeniable, drive to be obeyed, to command, to dispense pleasure at a pace of his choosing, to dictate someone else’s pleasure, to take care of their sexual needs so thoroughly that every strand of nerve ending on their body was maddeningly saturated and watch them come apart when or if he allowed. And Jongin, if he wasn’t the most immaculately archetypal candidate then Chanyeol didn’t know a damn thing about anything.

It couldn’t get better when Jongin finally let down his walls, let go of his reservations and tapped into his most profound desires, wild and dark and way ahead of Chanyeol in that regard, subtly inciting him to taking complete charge, sweetly asking permission and thanking him profusely at every modicum of pleasure like Chanyeol was a parsimonious lord of bliss. He shuddered and keened at every show of brute, staved off his pleasure until Chanyeol sanctioned it, wore fervour like a coat at every hint of ownership Chanyeol displayed, in bruises, in words of claim, in every demand that implied Chanyeol’s pleasure was Jongin’s predestined duty.

“Be patient. I’m gonna make it good for you. You trust me doll?”

“Yeah,”

“Say it.”

“I trust you.” it comes out a whimper.

“Good. Ask me what you want.” Chanyeol encourages, holding back from pulling the lustful into his lap.

“Touch me. Touch me here, like this. Please.”  

Green light, Chanyeol abides. “You feeling good now?” he touches him feather light, forward and back with his knuckles.

“Yeah. _Yes.”_

“Didn’t I tell you? Best at making you feel good. What do you say?”

“Thank you.” Jongin’s hands are fisted in the couch, or as close to as they can get on the leather, the veins sketching beneath the skin of his arms prominent with the effort of self restraint.

“Welcome baby. Here, gimme a kiss.” Jongin meets him zealously, rough and frantic especially now that Chanyeol has stopped teasing and wrapped his fingers around his member properly.

 _“Chanyeol.”_ he bucks into Chanyeol’s fist, torso twisted to brace Chanyeol’s shoulders, face wild with pleasure and need.

“Yeah, that’s it. Take it. Take what you want.”

 _“Chanyeol.”_ he groans like he’s in pain, rests his head on Chanyeol’s shoulder while he continues to move his hips.

“Baby doll after my heart.” he coos instead of complying with Jongin’s silent plea until he speaks it out. “Pretty rag. Come on, gimme a little love. Show me your prettiest face.”

“More, more.”

“More? Take it, I’m not stopping you. Maybe you don’t want it. Is that true, doll?” he taunts, disappointment sutured in the undertone.

That pumps some indignation into Jongin, prompts him to lift his head and exclaim, “I want it!”

“Don’t look like it.” Chanyeol remains nonchalant, his grip neither lax nor tighter as Jongin wants it.

_“I want it!”_

“Then take it! Fuck my fingers. Move your hips, baby. You know all about movin’ your hips, don’t you? You know what to do with them on my cock, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” Jongin breathes, his cheeks heated and expression suddenly tainted with shyness. He buries his head in Chanyeol’s chest again and pushes harder into his fist.

“And what’s that?”

“Give your cock a nice dance.” he whispers into the underside of Chanyeol’s jaw.

“That’s right. Give my cock a nice wiggle. My good little doll. My good boy. Want me to go faster?”

“Yes please.”

“Good, good. Show me how much you want it.”

He was already halfway there but Jongin moves the entirety of himself onto Chanyeol’s lap then. He braces Chanyeol’s, knees around his hips, foreheads resting together. His pants warm Chanyeol’s face and their lips touch in brief kisses when Jongin is coherent enough to align their mouths. His body undulates with his thrusts into Chanyeol’s hand and Chanyeol dips his head to take a nipple into his mouth. Jongin cries out, hips stuttering for a second as he moans in the onslaught of ecstasy. His forceful thrusts resume, though they grow sporadic.

“Gimme more, more _Chanyeol_ please I’m so close, mmf—”

Chanyeol uses his other hand to start squeezing his tight, heavy balls and Jongin instantly hits the roof of pleasure. Nails dig into Chanyeol’s shoulder hard enough to leave angry red lines, Jongin’s spine and head curve backwards while his torso presses into Chanyeol’s, come smearing between their two bodies, slick and dirty, and Chanyeol has to circle an arm around Jongin’s waist to keep him from falling.

“No wonder you can’t get my name out your mouth.” Chanyeol says emphatically as Jongin goes bonelessly to the couch when he lowers him down and rubs the come into his skin like a salve. Sheer chagrin crosses Jongin’s drowsy face but Chanyeol is too busy being a smug bastard to regret the remark.

Lucky for Chanyeol Jongin’s not annoyed enough to resist him carrying him to his room, especially when he reverts to the authoritarian persona that knows how to play Jongin’s body like a lyre, starts speaking to him in that low voice and filthy words that have him whining again before he’s hit the bed.

 

ミ☆☆彡

 

Chanyeol knows trouble when he sees it and his arrangement with Jongin? Used to be convenient but now it’s trouble epitomized. He doesn’t do… whatever the fuck last night was. Comfort-fucking, maybe. But hanging out. Cuddling and comforting _and_ comfort-fucking… Nope, nope and _nope._ That’s nothing like how he operates.

Jongin was gone when he woke and he’s glad, he tells himself. It’s for the better, just like they normally do. Why would he wait or leave a message or something? No reason, none at all.

Chanyeol stretches out the morsel of joy he finds in not having to see Jongin in the next couple weeks because Jongin’s troupe is performing in a contest abroad and Chanyeol’s buried in the operations for the play he’s directing and its rehearsals. It’s only a morsel, though. More than anything the separation makes him irritable and listless. _I haven’t fucked anyone in three weeks,_ he thinks. He beats himself up for that awhile because who said he had to wait for Jongin? Since when had they agreed to exclusivity? Never, that’s when. Besides, he fears he might be getting in a rut with this routine. He’s not thinking of quitting Jongin cold turkey but maybe the fella had the right idea about trying to date and seeing other people. Wouldn’t hurt a smidgen, right?

He announces it late one evening as they’re wrapping up. “I need a date.”

“Oh my god.” Baekhyun exclaims.

“Did you finally break Jongin’s heart?” Kieran looks at him unimpressed.

“I told you to be fucking nice. He’s a gentle thing, didn’t I tell ya? And more importantly he has three brothers and two sisters, all _very_ angry people unlike him. You never fuckin’ listen.” Darren chimes in, his face speaking of pained exasperation.

 _“What_ are you all talking about? I never broke anyone’s heart because it was never like that. Forget I asked.” it’s Chanyeol’s turn to huff disgruntledly and rescind his request.

Of course Baekhyun doesn’t listen. By the time he gets home he gets a message from an unknown number.

Messages 19m ago

0873612458:

_Hey Chanyeol. It’s Connor. I was wondering if you’d like to meet up sometime this week  p.s. Baek gave me your no. hope it’s all good_

Sometimes Baekhyun runs his mouth when it’s not warranted and he’s insufferable when he teams up with Kieran in nagging Chanyeol and he’s not exactly the best gift giver but tonight Chanyeol would kiss him smack on the lips and finally admit he thinks of him as one of his best pals.

 

ミ☆☆彡

 

Connor’s a dancer and doesn’t fail in reminding Chanyeol of that on the dance floor. He’s hot and bold and his ass fits nicely in Chanyeol's cupped palms. He’s funny and skilled at his forte and he keeps Chanyeol’s attention the whole night. That is until he excuses to relieve himself and Chanyeol checks his phone that he managed to avoid all night.

Five missed calls and a sea of texts.

Messages 2h ago

 **dollface** :

-you asleep in there?

 **dollface** :

-open the damn door

 **dollface** :

-chanyeol im really concerned. are u okay? are u dead? pls open the door

The concerned texts go on, all ranging from concern to blatant annoyance and back to concern, until one final one.

 **dollface** :

-talked to baekhyun… have fun :)

Shit _._

Jongin wasn’t supposed to get back till next week. There’s an inexplicable surge of guilt, maybe he should have let Jongin know he wasn’t going to be home tonight. Jongin had the courtesy to tell Chanyeol about his dates, right? He should’ve texted him at least. Yeah, that’s it. That’s all he has to be guilty for but he can rectify it right this moment.

He’s starting to think Jongin might be asleep when the phone keeps ringing, even though it’s barely ten p.m.

 _“Hullo?”_ comes the gruff croak when he’s about to hang up.

“Jongin!” Chanyeol’s enthusiasm startles himself, makes him cringe inside. “I mean, hi. Jongin. You sleeping?”

_“Uhm. No. What’s up?”_

He’s lying and Chanyeol knows he’s lying because it’s the tone he uses when Chanyeol asks if Jongin thought about him during the week and Jongin answers, slightly pitched voice with his syntax all staccato before he caves and divulges the fantasies of them he’s had in the last six days since they saw each other. Jongin’s lying and Chanyeol really wants to know what he’s up to because more than anything he sounds thinned out like the last night they saw each other and he never wants to hear Jongin all torn up like that again.

But he lets it go because he’s confused enough for feeling awful about not giving Jongin a heads up about his date.

“Sorry… I didn’t know you got back.”

_“S’fine.”_

“What are you doing?”

_“I’m—Don’t you have a date?”_

“Yeah… I... yeah, uhm, goodnight then.”

_“Wait.”_

“Yes dollface?” he doesn’t why he finds himself smiling, anticipating what Jongin will say. Maybe something like “Want me to come over when you get home?” But that’s ridiculous and Jongin’s next statement is a reality check.

_“Is it over? Us… I mean, the Friday thing, are you…”_

“No!” Chanyeol embarrasses himself again with how vehemently he protests. “I’m—do you want it to be?”

 _“Just thought you didn’t want to anymore because…”_ Jongin trails off into quiet and Chanyeol is filled with the profound wish to see his face right now because it doesn’t sound right, doesn’t sound like Jongin.

“Because?”

_“You have a date and you didn’t say and so maybe, just that you’re… you’re done and you don’t want to do our weekly thing.”_

“No dollface,” he says, cursing the unauthorized fondness seeping into the nickname. “You’re still my thing.” the words meet silence and Chanyeol’s face burns as he registers what he just said so he rushes to clarify, _“Fucking_ you is still my thing. Besides, date doesn’t matter. You know I don’t do exclusive shit.”

 _“Yeah.”_ Jongin says, sounding even quieter and Chanyeol doesn't understand the sick feeling that crawls into his stomach, _“Yeah, I know. Goodnight, Chanyeol.”_

“Night ba—” but the line’s already dead.

 

ミ☆☆彡

 

The following week Jongin is prickly to put it kindly. Says it’s a rough week with a new routine but chanyeol knows he’s lying but like before, hasn’t the faintest clue why.  At least Jongin doesn’t revert to subdued reticence and Chanyeol can’t find it in himself to complain.

“So, Connor, huh?” Jongin says, as Chanyeol straddles his shoulders and pushes his waistband down only far enough to take his cock out and tease it at Jongin’s lips. A kiss is pressed to the blunt wet tip and Chanyeol hisses to the ceiling. Before he can enjoy it Jongin’s mouth is moving again and not on his dick.

“‘Course you’d go for the best.”

“Thought _you_ were the best.” he grunts, nudges his cock into Jongin’s mouth again but Jongin gives it a customary lick and a dismissive kiss before returning his gaze to Chanyeol.

“Glad to know you think that.”

“‘Kay. You are. Open your mouth, lovedoll.” fuck, would Jongin just not let a man be satisfied, especially while his dick was at his lips, before all this pillowtalk? Then again Chanyeol would have much more patience for this if it hadn’t been weeks since they fucked.

“Are you taking him out again? You know the championships are coming up and you’d be distracting him so I don’t think you shoul—”

“Your brain’s doing too much again.” Chanyeol says tonelessly, patience gone. He doesn’t understand why they are discussing other people when they could be doing much more fruitful things like screwing each other insane. Especially since the person in question only left him with a bitter aftertaste, for reasons he would like to avoid sharing with Jongin or anyone.

“You’re going to feel this tomorrow.” they both know it’s a promise. Delivered promptly as he pushes past the words Jongin was going to say and nests his cock cosily at the back of his throat, bottoming out. Jongin’s eyes bulge before his features relax, his breath adjusts around Chanyeol brushing deep in his throat, jaw loosening and lips tucked under his teeth as he dutifully waits for Chanyeol to set the pace. And shit, if that doesn’t do a lot for Chanyeol’s dick. Every time Jongin lets him do this, he gets a little more damaged for anyone else, a little closer to ruin, because there aren’t many who’d trust him to fuck their mouths like this. The only thing that tops it is when Jongin lies on his back with his head off the bed and lets Chanyeol fuck his throat upside down.

He sets a slow pace, Jongin’s hands settled on his waist and helping guide him home while Chanyeol’s fists punch the sheets and hold him up. Jongin brings both his palms to his back and _pushes,_ moving Chanyeol in to the balls, almost, and he _sucks,_ keeps Chanyeol there until the latter’s the one tapping out, grappling with Jongin to let him go before he shoots his load straight to Jongin’s stomach but apparently that’s what he wants because the deviant, the vixen of a doll, he hums on Chanyeol’s cock and hollows his cheeks to massive dents even further. 

Chanyeol’s a goner.

“Holy hell,” Chanyeol pants, collapsing over the man beneath him. “Shit, doll. What the fuck was that.” his breathing comes out in swamped snags and the ticking silence eludes him.

“Did you sleep with him?”

“Hm?” Chanyeol drags himself up so he doesn’t crush Jongin, collapses away from him to catch his breath.

 _“Connor,”_ Jongin says impatiently, suddenly at Chanyeol’s thighs, between them, fingers around Chanyeol’s softening dick. “Did you fuck him?”

God, not this again. _I did and it was good but nothing close to you._ Why was Jongin so curious about this?

“Yeah, it was— _fuck._ Jongin?!” he sits up to see Jongin’s mouth on his cock, taking him in all the way, sucking hard with teeth scraping along the sides on the way down and it hurts until it starts to feel good. It’s too soon for him, too soon but Jongin has lost his hearing senses and his raison d’etre has been rewritten to getting Chanyeol off again because he keeps sucking him like a maniac, a sex hellion with his silvery blonde hair dishevelled, something mean and profane glinting in his eyes and all of his soft curves and long lean limbs on display as he folds over Chanyeol.

Most nights Chanyeol’s the one giving and he loves how Jongin takes it. But tonight it’s evident it is not one of those nights. Tonight Jongin wants it to feel like he's plundering with everything he gives and he wants Chanyeol to do nothing but watch as he does.

Unsure but aroused and so increasingly hopeless to helping himself against this particular human, Chanyeol lets Jongin have his way, lets him ride him to a begrudging third orgasm, lets him ride his face before he has caught his breath again, watches in admiration as Jongin sinks down on him backwards and gives him a priceless view of his cock repeatedly pushing between Jongin’s supple peaches, leaning forward so far as to show him the bulbous tip barely pushing into his gaping entrance before sheathing Chanyeol back all the way in and it's one of the most delightfully lecherous things Chanyeol has ever laid eyes on.

Chanyeol’s never been stimulated so much in a single night, Jongin outdoing himself like he's trying to ingrain himself into Chanyeol's bloodstream as irrevocable as a lethal narcotic, with the passion of a lover and the might of a mighty, scorned enemy. Chanyeol’s got no other thoughts on his mind, barely has the energy to protest when hours later Jongin dresses himself without looking at him and walks out.

 

ミ☆☆彡

 

Jongin has “other commitments” for the next two weeks and to say that it’s driving Chanyeol up the wall would be the biggest understatement. He could lie to himself but come to think of it, Jongin was quite odd the last time they fucked and it’s been eating away at him, if only because he can’t stand unresolved shit. He ignores the Klaxon going off in his brain, puts all his reservations aside and calls Jongin. Several times over a week. _Maybe this time,_ he tells himself each time he calls. A little more than his ego is bruised when Jongin doesn’t pick up a single time. Most of all, he’s just worried.

“Chanyeol,” Kieran says calmly sometime after the fortieth woeful sigh Chanyeol lets out. “Can you just go and make up with Jongin or Jongin part two and stop polluting our space with your lovesick rain cloud?”

There’s so much wrong in that sentence, Chanyeol doesn’t even know where to start. Fortunately for him Kieran knows him better than himself.

“You think it’s not obvious you went out with someone similar to him to try and prove something? And him dating someone who could be the image of you? You’re both fools and so help me god I will give you an end you both deserve.”

By Kieran’s terms that could mean anything from trapping them in a room together to shrouding them in burlap and tossing them onto a yacht destined for an obscure Caribbean island to be sold off to a drug lord. It really depends on his mood, which depends on the weather.

“I don’t know what you mean. Jongin and Connor are nothing alike. And neither is me and that leech.” he snorts.

“Dancer, good looking, best of their troupe?”

“Inconsequential.” _because no one’s like Jongin._

Whoa _._ Whoa. _Whoa,_ that horse is sure making for the finish line.

“I mean, it’s an Arts school, Kier. Not like I’m gonna find a lawyer boyfriend here.”

Kieran stays silent, fixing Chanyeol with his trademark ‘oh my god, I, a being of higher intellect, am being subjected to this abject foolery’ look and Chanyeol knows well enough to take a moment to reflect on whatever he just said.

“Oh. I don’t mean _boyfriend-_ boyfriend. Just, you know. What it is right now.”

“Uh huh.”

“I’m serious.”

“Yes, because I’m the one that needs convincing.”

“Unhelpful.” he throws a pillow at his best friend’s head and it comes back at him swift and hard and Chanyeol remains on his back with a growing sense of dread and misery.

What if Kieran’s right about the drivel he’s implying?

 

Sooner than he’d like, he has his answer.

 

The door opens three minutes later, when Chanyeol is about to (shamefully) give up, congratulate himself on trying and head home. “Chanyeol?”

“Commitment huh?” he takes in Jongin’s drowsy look, the crinkled clothes riding up and showcasing smooth golden skin, the obvious bedhead.

“It’s Tuesday...right?” Jongin says, disoriented and squinting against the light. Fuck. It was hard to admit but it’s easier to come to terms with it now. If Chanyeol hasn’t missed this face.  “Isn’t it Tuesday? Chanyeol? We didn’t have an agreement?” he grows more confused by the second and Chanyeol. Well. He’s learning he’s quite helpless to Jongin’s maple-caramel mannerisms, enhanced by the confused scrunch of his features, that make Chanyeol want to push him flush against his chest, bury his nose in his hair. Jongin makes him… _cuddly_ and that’s a serious affliction.

“It _is_ Tuesday.” Chanyeol stalks in, “and we don’t but we’re overdue, don’t you think?”

“I-I can’t, it’s Tuesday Chanyeol!” Jongin explains bewilderedly and how can Chanyeol blame him when the guy who’s never so much as asked him to stay the night for a whole year comes knocking on his door? “I’m going to be—I won’t be able to dance—“ he’s cut off by Chanyeol reaching past him to shut the door.

He turns his head into the side of Jongin’s, whispers at his ear, “Just my fingers then.” He loves watching Jongin’s pupils dilate whenever he crowds him, loves the shifting of his breath and visible squirm that may or may not end in Jongin giving him whatever he wants.

 _“Chanyeol.”_ Jongin’s wide awake now.

“Want me to suck you, too? I missed that pretty cock in my mouth. Think I got some favours to repay from last time. Didn’t get to tell you, it blew my mind.” he nuzzles at Jongin’s neck, wraps himself around Jongin’s waist, “You blow my mind.”

Chanyeol hasn’t touched him proper anywhere, not yet, but Jongin is starting to slip, his resistance is melting. He can feel it from the way he starts to dissolve in Chanyeol’s arms, molten like he’ll go to the floor if Chanyeol doesn’t keep him upright, mouth slack and eyes heavy in that way that coils all of Chanyeol so tight.

“Hey doll,” Chanyeol murmurs, pushing Jongin closer, for once feeling the need to acknowledge and vocalize this flurry inside him that Jongin evokes, this flurry that’s kept him loyal out of his own violation for a whole damn year, “don’t let it go to your head but fuckin’ missed you.”

“Yeah?” Jongin’s eyes open a fraction wider, a nascent smile on his lips.

“Yeah.”

“How much?”

“Like bloody hell. Little witchling on top of being baby doll. The fuck are you?”

“Just said I’m a doll and a witch.” Jongin giggles, his lust haze morphing into precious delight.

Chanyeol is so fucking screwed.

“And a bit of a dick. Why’d you not pick up my calls?”

“I dunno.” Jongin shrugs petulantly, “Promised you’d suck me. I don’t see any—“

“Ssh.” Chanyeol’s pressing him into the door now, lower bodies aligned perfectly to give Jongin an idea of where Chanyeol’s thoughts are running, “You get what I give you, got it?”

“Thought you said you’d give me what I want.” Jongin grumbles but brings an affectionate hand through Chanyeol’s hair, comes to rest firmly at his nape.

“Not today, you’re in for it today.”

“Lame.”

“You’re lucky I didn’t fuck your jaw loose the minute I walked through that door.”

Jongin’s breath gets raspy. Chanyeol relishes in it.

“You like that idea don’t you? Because you’re a kinky little thing. Pretty and most perfect and every bit filthy. Remember how you told me you walk around with a plug in you, doll?” Jongin’s breathing’s getting real loud now, the brittle whines just a few words away, “Because you can’t stand to have your luscious little ass empty and you’re just so needy, can never wait till Friday. And you know what I’m starting to think?”

“What?” he sounds pinched and lost beyond this world, in a daydream where Chanyeol’s buried deep inside him, deeper than any plug will go.

And maybe Chanyeol’s in love, just a little bit.

“I’m starting to think it’s the best fucking thing you don’t go to someone else. I’m starting to think it’d drive me insane if someone ever touched you again and it wasn’t me. How about that?” his palm shapes Jongin’s cheek, holding him straight so Jongin focuses on what he’s _saying_ and not the silent promises he’s making.

“That’s… pretty neat.” Jongin says after several moments of blinking, like trying to clear away an invisible fog.

“That all?”

“No, I- I feel less stupid.”

Chanyeol pauses, wraps his arms around Jongin’s waist to hoist him up. Jongin automatically moves with him, tiptoeing before circling his legs snuggly around Chanyeol.

“Stupid? Why’s my doll feeling anything like that?” he murmurs up, framing Jongin’s neck like Jongin’s doing him, lips close but not in rush for anything for once. There’s no Friday evening to take advantage of, get his fill of Jongin and fuck his doll as many times as possible before he lets him go for the week because if he’s being honest with himself, that’s what he’d been doing. Besides being insanely aroused by Jongin, it was the other reason for fucking him within an inch of his life every week and facing the truth has never been so remedial. 

“‘Cos I want to be your only one. ‘Cos I want you doing that “exclusive shit” with me.” Jongin admits, gnawing on his bottom lips. Chanyeol gives a gentle tug backwards on his hair to stop him, meanwhile defying the voice urging him to take up Jongin’s lips for himself.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Then I’ll do that exclusive shit with you.” he kisses Jongin, chaste, right beneath his lips, then on to his chin, then right beneath his jaw where Chanyeol feels the full body shudder that runs through Jongin every single time.

“Am I still your thing?”

“You’re still my thing.” he brings his face back to Jongin’s at the shy question, full kiss on the lips, reassuring and soft, “Not just fucking.”

“Chanyeol.” Jongin almost purrs and Chanyeol holds back a chuckle.

“Yeah doll?

“Nothing. M’happy.”

“I can see.” he grins, presses a kiss on the plump curve of Jongin’s bottom lip and hears him giggle.

Chanyeol is so fucking screwed but he’s set, for a long time it seems.

 

And if Soohyuk fuckin’ Lee finds a congress of salamanders let loose in his wardrobe? Well, that’s none of Chanyeol’s business.

 

**Author's Note:**

> ONCE AGAIN I'D LIKE TO APOLOGIZE TO LEE SOOHYUK SORRY MY DUDE
> 
> i hope you enjoyed that! i'm in the middle of a long-ish wip and i didn't plan for this but plot bunnies be plot bunnies right? *shrugs* :D  
> tell me your thoughts~ uwu and come to my twitter if you wanna follow my writing updates or want to chat chankai or watch me breakdown over them and jongin (i think that's all i really do heh). anyway, thank you for stopping by! ♡
> 
> ＼ʕ •ᴥ•ʔﾉ♡  
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/miraclesnapril) // [curious cat](https://curiouscat.me/miraclesnapril)


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